


Gallimaufry

by deepandlovelydark



Category: Fallen London | Echo Bazaar, Sunless Sea
Genre: Flash Fic, Neathbow, general Neathy weirdness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-04 13:41:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12170010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepandlovelydark/pseuds/deepandlovelydark
Summary: Drabbling around the Neath.Straight FL/SS flash fics, written for requested prompts.





	1. Foxfire Candles

**Author's Note:**

> Copyright items: Fallen London is © 2015 and ™ Failbetter Games Limited: www.fallenlondon.com. This is an unofficial fan work.

“They weren’t always called foxfire candles,” the Ancient Chandler tells you, as he wraps your purchases for the voyage. “No, in the Khanate they used to be called spirit lights- you can see why they adopted the English name, can’t you? Less reminiscent of setting your gods on fire, if you think that light carries law.”

The less you quibble, the quicker he’ll be to finish. “So that’s why they developed the electric lights? Pink and gold?”

"Quite. Must say, London's fall was good for business. Don't even get me started on candles in the Third City..."


	2. Nativity

Is it the report of an ecclesiastic from Whither?

Why is it called the Nativity? Whose birth would the spiders celebrate? Do they give of their silks with pain, joy, machinery's indifference? What unhallowed inks stain the raw fibers these bright unnatural colours? What grudging kindnesses are relinquished, that the inhabitants choose to stay? Who is to say whether a day's seven-fold joy outweighs a year's monotony? Whose saviour is it, guarding these rocks? 

Is it so different here, than on the Surface?

How many years shall the festival continue? Where is the zee-captain to decide its fate?


	3. Apocyanic

In the Society for the Investigation of the Neathbow (it’s a student group at the University; they meet up for Darkdrop every Wednesday night), the proponents of apocyanic have a reputation for feeling perpetually slighted. Their choice holds no dreamy sleepiness reminiscent of the Surface, nor the resolute ending of gant, just the everyday tint of moonish light on the Underzee. 

But that'll change today, the Ultramarine Crusader thinks happily. Today they have a lump of Blue Scintillack.

And by the time they’re done loading this stolen Urchin cannon, even the irrigo fanatics won't be able to forget this radiance…


	4. Orphanage

There was an old lady from Spite  
Ran an orphanage all of her life,  
To the children she said  
“Behave, or you’re dead,”  
Such a patron, this lady from Spite.

There was a young soul from the Flit,  
Who was foxy and wise as a kit,  
Their habitual practice  
Was to duck in a mattress,  
When the Constables came with a writ. 

The urchins of Spite came one day,  
To this ungendered party, to say  
“If this horror you’ll scare,”  
“Make exeunt like a bear,”  
“We’ll throw you a honey buffet.”

Our youngster went off, spiked her tea,  
So the lady lost all memory,  
She now lives quite alone,  
Cries for children and home,  
But the urchins are happy and free.


End file.
